I have been asked often about my life on this island and it suddenly becomes difficult to put into mere words all that I have passed through. But in a mail to a friend-I-found-again I managed to capture glimpses of this life of mine. An extract...

"Traveled some amount, fell in love - with London, met some very good people, some not so good but case studies by themselves, have stuffed myself to the gills on the strangest of food, stood on rock-strewn sea beaches, climbed misty hills, walked more miles than I perhaps ever have, tasted snow, jogged in ice-cold rain, spent evenings over coffee with absolute strangers, felt like stripping at 18 degrees..."

There are some phases in life which are overwhelming, not necessarily because of the gravity of things happening around us, but the sheer number of things happening at the same time. It is during such moments that I perhaps react the least - not that I am suppressing my reactions, just that I am not reacting at all.

It's like standing in the naked desert and facing a sand-storm that is blowing your way. You know you can't run, or hide and you stand there waiting for it to hit. All you can do is crouch and hope that not too much sand chokes you or stings your eyes. You can hear it howling in your ears, numbing everything else around you, threatening to overcome your senses. And you crouch...

When the last of the storm passes, you stand, dust yourself and look around. The desert still looks much the same and the sky is clear once again. It's almost as though there was no storm at all! Did you imagine it then?

There are reminders sometimes though, that you didn't dream it up after all. The stray grain of sand in your hair can itch, or the one in your eye can tease out a tear drop or two.

M has written an absolutely brilliant piece on racing. Truly brilliant. Have no other words or sentiments to describe it.

It got me thinking… Do I like racing? Guess I don’t. There has always been that latent fear somewhere in me of “what if..?” And yet I have been on a bike doing close to 100 kmph on a road somewhere in Bangalore. No helmets. The wind stinging my eyes. Hair flying in the wind. Yes, it was thrilling to the very core. And very, very reckless. Been on another bike. Done close to 100 kmph again. With helmets. But the feeling was so different. The bikes were different (the first was a CBZ, the second a Machismo). So were the riders.

Metaphorically speaking, I don’t like racing in life either. (Although there are those who would laugh at this, saying that I am deluding myself.) But seriously, I have never been in a mad rush to do something, anything. I get things done more or less on time – that’s about it. I was recalling my momentary urge (somewhere back in college) of sitting for CAT. A visit to the tutorial later, I realized that’s not what I want to do in life. No one at home wanted me to do what I was aiming for – “it’s bohemian, wayward, erratic, irregular” etc. And yet I did. Two years later, when placements were round the corner, I opted out of it. “Do you want to get married?” was one of the reactions. And yet I was the first to land a job in the whole batch. Well, that was a phase of a few “firsts” and it felt good.

There have of course been times when standing on the fringe has exacted its toll. But it’s worth it.

Of the many things that I remember he said, one of them was:

Even if you win the rat race, you are still a rat.